


Bone Deep Clarity

by raelee514



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 00:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raelee514/pseuds/raelee514
Summary: There is an accident and Jimmy's life is upended.





	1. Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

> Something that's been in my head and I finally started to manage to get it onto the page. Will probably be just a few chapters.

Jimmy stared at his hands. They were covered in blood. Thomas’ blood. Jimmy paced the floor. He heard murmurs of voices but he couldn’t hear them. Branson had driven them to the hospital. Jimmy in the back, his hands pressed against Thomas chest, trying to stop the blood, willing it to stay in Thomas’ veins. 

When they gotten to the hospital, Thomas been ripped away from his hands. He’d lurched after him. Following the stretcher until strong hands pushed his chest. A male voice telling him it was time to let Dr. Clarkson do his job. Jimmy stared at the door they’d taken Thomas through. Every time he turned around in his pacing and saw the door he glared at it. Impatience rushing through his veins, his blood was rushing and he stared back down at his hands and thought about Thomas’ blood rushing out of him… 

He was going to be sick. He lurched to stop and fell to his knees. He felt the bile rising up. There was no stopping it. He felt hands on him, pulling and he let them grab him. He was pushed into a chair, there was bucket and everything rushed out of him. His lunch. There been no dinner. They were here. He lurched and retched. A hand was on his back and he heard more voices but they were muffled murmurs. Jimmy couldn’t hear a thing. 

His stared at his hands again. The blood. He tried to swallow, there was a lump in his throat and it was like he’d forgotten how. He looked up and toward the door. The door Thomas went through and he wondered how long it’d been. 

“Around a half an hour,” a voice managed it’s way past the blood rushing in his ear. 

“Is that long…” he looked back down at his hands.

“We should get you back to the house, you need to clean up.”

Jimmy felt his whole body both tense and turn. He found himself looking at Anna. “I’m not leaving him.”

“Dr. Clarkson is with him. We have to let him do his job. There isn’t much we can do here.”

“No.” Jimmy shook his head and moved away from her touch. It was her hand on his back. He didn’t want it there. 

“James…”

He looked up the sound of Mrs. Hughes voice. Saying the name he hates. He saw her face, all kind and he saw worry in her eyes. But he felt distant from it too. Thomas bleeding was all he could really see, even if his hands were no longer pressed hard against his chest. 

“James do you hear me?”

“He’s in shock.” It was a voice he didn’t know. “It might be best if someone brought him a change of clothes. I’m going to bring some blankets. He’s much too cold.” 

He wished the voices would go back to murmurs. They were irritating him. Why were they fussing over him? Thomas was the one…. Bleeding. Jimmy felt a jolt. He heard the gunshot again. He heard it blasting. Loud and unexpected. Anna had screamed. 

Silence had fallen. Everyone shaken. Then Mr. Carson had started shouting at the hall boy who’d accidentally fired one of the hunting guns that Mr. Bates had out for cleaning. Jimmy turned his head toward Thomas to smirk just in time to watch Thomas crumple to ground, blood blooming across his chest. He stared at his hands again. He tried to slow it. Tried to stop it. He kept saying Thomas’ name but there was nothing. Nothing that told him Thomas could hear him. 

He felt blankets fall around him and he started to try to shrug them off. But strong hands pushed them around him. Anna and Mrs. Hughes telling him to allow the nurse help him. He tilted his head up and found Anna staring down. He glared at her but let the nurse help him. 

“They are helping, Thomas,” Mrs. Hughes said. 

Jimmy looked back toward the door. 

“He must come back to the house.” It was Mr. Carson. 

“NO.” Jimmy shouted. “I’m not leaving him.”

Voices were talking over each other. He didn’t even try to listen. He was cold. He realized. He tugged the blankets around him and fought to keep his eyes open. He felt smacked with exhaustion but he couldn’t sleep. He had to stay awake. He had to be here. He had be here. 

Darkness descended against his will. 

~~~

Jimmy woke with a jolt. He tipped forward in the chair he was in. He was covered in blankets. His breath was harsh and he felt his stomach lurch as he remembered what he’d been dreaming wasn’t a nightmare. It was truth. He blinked because the room felt too bright. He looked around at hospital white walls and all the lamps. 

“Jimmy?” Anna was in front of him. “Feeling better?”

Was she insane? “Thomas?”

“He’s still in surgery.”

“What… how long.”

“It’s be over an hour. They tell us it’s normal.”

“Normal!” Jimmy shouted. 

“Come on, we should get you home.”

“No,” he pulled his arm out of her hold. 

“James. Look at yourself. And we can’t do anything here.” It was Mr. Bates who was standing behind Anna suddenly. Looking at him with his stupid face. 

Jimmy looked down. He saw the blood on his hand. He saw the blood staining his livery. He saw the blood pouring out of Thomas, vivid and too red. He’d never like red again. 

“Let’s get you home and cleaned up,” Anna said. 

“No.”

He heard sighs. More than one. Mrs. Hughes was suddenly before him. “I know you’re worried, but it will be a while yet. They’ll call us.”

“I’m not leaving him.”

“Damn it, boy, what good are you going to do here?” Mr. Bates snapped.

“Would you fucking leave ANNA.” Jimmy rose to his feet as he shouted. “You wouldn’t fucking leave her so why the BLOODY HELL DOES ANYONE THINK I'D LEAVE HIM.” 

Jimmy staggered second the words left his mouth. The weight of them a shock right against his heart. He stared into the stunned faces of Mrs. Hughes, Anna and Mr. Bates. He thought he must look that too. Utterly stunned. 

Shocked. 

He fell into the chair that was thankfully behind him. He stared ahead blankly. The words echoing in his head. The scream that strangled out of his throat when he saw Thomas fall. The need to be with him that was crawling up his spine. 

“Well then… I think that settles it. James will be staying here and awaiting _his friend_ coming out of surgery whole and healthy. Not another word will spoken…”

Jimmy turned in the direction of the voice. He saw Lady Mary. Had she been there the entire time? It was an abstract thought. He couldn’t really bring himself to care. But she was walking up to him. But it was like he wasn’t really there. The words seemed to echo and he felt distant from it all. It was all underneath his mind and heart going. 

Thomas, Thomas, Thomas, Thomas. 

“Anna will bring you a change of clothes, don’t you worry about leaving. We’ll make sure Mr. Barrow is taken care of, James.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Anna told him and walked off, Mr. Bates following her. 

It was all words. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Mrs. Hughes. “We'll just wait here then?” she said softly. 

“I’m not leaving him,” he repeated, realizing with bone deep clarity that he was in love with Thomas Barrow.


	2. Heartache

Jimmy was crawling out of his skin. He shifted in the uncomfortable chair and attempted to find a position that felt comfortable enough for him to at least fall still. But he couldn’t fall still. He kept tapping his foot. Or tapping his fingers against his thighs. He kept shifting closer to the bed, hand overing over Thomas’ chest where the bandage was… The bandage hiding stitches. Too near his heart. 

The bullet nearly hit him right in the heart. Nausea attacked Jimmy again but he put his head down and told himself to breath. Told himself Thomas was breathing. But he wasn’t awake and Jimmy knew he’d never feel any peace until he saw Thomas’ eyes again. Sharp gray, clear and clever. With that glint he got moments before he said something acerbic, witty or both. 

Jimmy leaned back in the creaky chair and found himself staring. Thomas hair was on his forehead, not neatly combed back. Jimmy itched to push it back, straighten it out. Thomas would want it straightened out. Wouldn’t he? Jimmy bit his lower lip and felt his jaw clench. He knew him didn’t he? He knew Thomas.

He loved Thomas. It still made him stagger, he felt the chair under him. Every time he thought he knew it deeper. The truth of it. It was as sharp as Thomas’ tongue could be. Barbed and bright and clawing at him from the inside out. 

Jimmy’s eyes fell on Thomas’ hand and he reached out. He wanted to grab it. Hold it. Tell Thomas he was here. He wanted Thomas to know he was here. Would that even work? Would Thomas feel him if he held Thomas’ hand? His eyes went to Thomas’ face. He was so pale, his freckles stood out darker than Jimmy ever seen them. The black of his stubble was a stark contrast to the white of his skin. They said he lost a lot of blood, they’d had to give him blood. Jimmy’s eyes fell to his own hands. Mrs. Hughes and Anna talked him into washing up, they’d brought him his own suit to change into. He was no longer covered in Thomas’ blood but he felt it still… he felt it warm against his hands as he pressed against the gunshot. He felt it become tacky as it dried. 

He eyes fall on Thomas’ hair again and he decided he did know Thomas. He did and he reached over and pushed it off his forehead, used his fingers to neaten it up the best he could. He wasn’t leaving for a comb. He pulled back and nodded. It was better but it wasn’t close to good. 

Good would be Thomas waking up and seeing him. What would be good would be Thomas staring at him and his lips quirking up into a smile. What would be good would be him and Thomas laughing as they smoked and talked about the fools around them. 

“Wake up,” he whispered. “I don’t even know…” he closed his eyes. 

Years. They’ve been friends for years. Since guilt had driven Jimmy into Thomas’ room. Since Thomas’ bravery had him rethinking everything he thought he knew about the man. Lies and miscommunications were cleared up and never thought about again. Maybe guilt been his motivation but it wasn’t long before that too was forgotten. He and Thomas were friends. Best friends. It was always different, it was different from his other friendships. It had to be. Sometimes in the earlier years he felt Thomas’ gaze on him for a beat too long but it’d ebbed away slowly. 

Jimmy eyes fell onto Thomas mouth. Lips too pale. He wondered what it’d be like to kiss him. He’d wondered if before. He was admitting it now. More than once over the years. But he told himself it wasn’t odd to wonder that when your best mate was gay. He’d seen Thomas kiss men. He played look out. Thomas helped him out and one day he told Thomas he’d do the same. He never liked the men. Had Thomas hated all the women?

“You hate everyone…what a stupid question,” Jimmy whispered to the sleeping man. “Of course you did. It means little.” 

“James?”

“I’m not leaving him.” It was automatic now. 

Mrs. Hughes sighed. “You need sleep.”

“Not until he wakes up.”

“Not taking care of yourself…”

“No,” he looked at her and he pleaded with eyes yes. At least he hoped he was. He begged. “Don’t make me.”

“He would not want you doing this to yourself.”

“What you know about what he wants,” Jimmy spat out. 

“I’ll let that pass. This once. He wouldn’t want _you_ upset.”

“Wouldn’t he?” Jimmy sighed and looked at him. “He…” 

“What is it?”

“Does he still…” Jimmy shook his head. He couldn’t discuss this with her. Despite his outburst. Because of his outburst. He couldn’t discuss with anyone but the man who’s eyes were remaining shut. He stared at Thomas’ face again, the edge of his cheekbones, his lashes, the shape of his nose. He knew it all, he knows it all, but fear laced through him. 

“James?”

“He’ll be okay?” Jimmy meant it to be statement. He was going tell it to her and make it the truth. But his voice was broke and he felt tears hit his cheeks and he had to turn away from her. Hide his face. He’d shown enough as it was. 

A hand gripped his shoulder for the millionth time since it happened. And he thought about how he wasn’t the one in need of comfort. That was for Thomas, wasn’t it. He’d been shot. 

“I need to go,” Mrs. Hughes said. 

Jimmy nodded because he couldn’t speak. The tears were falling and he was barely breathing. He stared at Thomas though, through watery and stinging eyes. Mrs. Hughes squeezed his shoulder and then she was gone. He let out a shaky sigh of relief. He wiped at his eyes and then they fell onto Thomas’ hand again. He wanted to hold it. It was a yearning from that place deep inside of him that had made itself heard. Finally. But he couldn’t do it. It felt wrong. It felt unfair. It felt insane. 

He looked at Thomas. His friend. A man who loved him. Once. Still? It been years. They’d been friends. They laughed. They even cried. Jimmy shook his head and felt like such a fool. He felt cruel. How long has he felt this way? How long? Thomas deserved better. That was clear. Someone who hadn’t been… 

So wrong about everything. 

He looked at Thomas mouth again, his face. He'd known. He'd known from moment one Thomas was handsome. He’d thought about kissing his mouth, touching his face. He’d looked at Thomas chest. He’d told himself half-truths, when he allowed himself to think about it all. It was all there. Under the surface as years passed the two of them by and they became better and better friends. 

No one knew him as well as Thomas. No one ever. His mother had known him best, but Thomas knew him better. Childhood friends were memories, Alfred was a friend but not like Thomas. 

“You’re the brave one,” Jimmy whispered. “Always were. _Are._ ” The fear laced through him again and he tried to swallow it down but it work and more tears spilled. “Wake up because I’m afraid you won’t.”

He sniffled and wiped at his face but the tears weren’t stopping. He glanced toward the open corner of the partition Thomas’ bed was in. He didn’t want to be seen crying. It was stupid he thought, because of course he was crying. Thomas was shot. His Thomas. His. He inhaled sharply through his mouth, needing air as the tears hit him harder. He moved and put his his head on the edge of Thomas bed. Feeling the scratch of the sheets on his forehead. He frowned at it. Thomas would hate that. Thomas would all of this. He looked up, wiping at tears and checked that his hair was still fixed. He dared to rub his thumb down Thomas’ cheek and felt his stubble. He always shaved so cleanly but it always grew in so fast. Jimmy heard him complaining about it in his head. 

“I watched you shave,” Jimmy huffed out a laugh. “How many times?” 

He openly stared, Jimmy realized and it was becoming clearer and clearer. How long his heart had belonged to Thomas and somehow he’d been blind to it. Blind? And why? No reason he could think of seemed large enough, not in the face of possibly losing him. He cared little for religion. What the hell was a proper man? He remembered O’Brien saying it, all those years ago and some odd fear settling over him then. What would people say? Think? He always worried about that, what people thought of him. He never wanted to look a fool. Wrong footed or stupid. He wasn’t brave, he thought again and he looked at Thomas and realized he knew now what heartache was. 

Heartache. He caused that in Thomas. He knew it and for the first time he wasn’t finding it flattering. It wasn’t feeding his ego. He made a decision it was all okay as long as Thomas never acted. Only friendship he’d told him that day in his room after the fair. _I think I can handle that._ He made Thomas live with it. Live with that. Live with this, he thought and a deep dark hate for himself rose up in his chest. 

Jimmy was broken now, his heart was in pieces and it could be too late. Years. Thomas may not love him any longer. He’s been with other men. Jimmy realizes the ugly feeling that ran down his spine about those conquests now was jealousy. How had he hidden this from himself for so long? Because it was expected? Because it was normal? It was a waste, Jimmy was crying again and his eyes fell on Thomas’ hand and he reached out. 

He reached out and he gripped Thomas' hand in his own. Because it was time to stop being afraid.


	3. Too Late

Jimmy wasn’t going to let go of Thomas’ hand. Ever. Not if he had any say about it. He held onto it and wondered at what he was so afraid of… Nothing happened. The only part of it that felt wrong was that Thomas wasn’t gripping him back. His hand was limp in Jimmy’s grasp. Fingers weren’t curling back as Jimmy slotted their fingers, side by side. His hand was cold at first, but his own heat warmed the skin up. Jimmy shifted his chair closer, and closer, his knees hitting the bed, he kept bending over and lowering his head onto the edge of it. His forehead would hit Thomas’ elbow. He willed Thomas to feel him, to feel the touches. 

Every time someone walked in to check on Thomas they mentioned maybe Jimmy might like to leave to get freshened up, or eat something. Get some sleep. Jimmy shook his head at all attempts and repeated again and again. “I’m not leaving him.” It was beginning to wonder if they’d be his last words because dying was the only way anyone was getting him off this chair and his hand out of Thomas’. 

He gripped his hand in his. “I’m here, Thomas. I’m not going anywhere. Not until I see your eyes.” Jimmy started using his time and the fact he was mostly being left alone to blatantly stare at him. He was beautiful, more than handsome. Jimmy’s hands twitched as he gave into thoughts he’d always pushed away before. What it’d be like to trace the slope of his cheekbone. What it might feel like to press against the grain of his stubble. Press his lips to Thomas’s long neck and his throat. Touch his chest, feel his chest hair under his palms. 

His cheeks flamed the more wondered. He’d never allowed himself before. Told himself he wasn’t even thinking these things but he had been. Usually late at night, moments before sleep took him when his mind was the least guarded. Or when he was drunk and sitting side by side with Thomas on the floor in one of their rooms smoking and being silly. 

Because Thomas who was always so serious, he could be silly. The minute Jimmy met that side of him, he’d spent hours working on bringing it out. He liked the way Thomas’s mouth would quirk at the ends and the throaty laugh deep from Thomas’ throat that was his true self. His real laugh and his real smile. And his jokes were clever but also stupid. Jimmy moved, trying to get closer to the bed, to Thomas. But he had no where to go but on the bed. Which made his cheeks heat again but his fell on the bandages on Thomas’ chest. Fear slamming again, seeing how close it’d been to Thomas’ heart. Jimmy’s heart, he thought. My heart. 

“I need to hear you laugh,” he said and let his forehead fall onto the bed again. He squeezed Thomas’ hand and let himself focus on the touch of his own skin against his. 

His eyes slipped closed because suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. Jimmy shot awake, his eyes darted straight to Thomas but he slept on still. He looked to his side and saw Daisy. She gave him a small smile and moved a bit away from him and then he saw Ivy standing by the foot of the bed. He blinked at them. Unsure why they’d be here. Why would visit Thomas?

“Mrs. Patmore sent you some sandwiches,” Daisy said and she raised her basket. 

“Oh, uh, just but them there,” he pointed at a nearby table. 

Daisy did as he asked but when she turned back she looked at Thomas. “He’s so white, is that good?”

“Of course it isn’t good,” Jimmy snapped. 

“But he’ll be okay, they said he’ll be okay,” Ivy said looking at him and not at Thomas. Jimmy stared back at her but said nothing. 

“Will he?” Daisy asked him her eyes darted between him and Thomas. 

“I hope so… waiting for him to wake up.”

“What if he don’t?” Daisy said eyes widening.

“He will,” Jimmy hissed. “If you are just going to ask daft questions leave.” 

Daisy looked at him and she looked sad. “Mrs. Hughes said to make sure you ate a sandwich.”

“Not hungry.”

“You’ve been here over twenty four hours,” Ivy said. “You should eat. You should come home.”

“I’m not leaving him.” He’d tattoo it on his forehead if he could stop having to repeat himself. “Go on with you, both of you.”

“Tell Thomas I was here?” Daisy said “Please?”

Jimmy nodded, surprised at her sincerity. Though, Daisy’s known him longer than Jimmy. She never remembers to call him Mr. Barrow and he’s only really heard Thomas correct her once or twice. And both times he’d been in an immensely bad mood. 

“I don’t think we should leave until he eats.” 

“Ivy leave,” Jimmy snapped. “I don’t want you here.”

“But…” she stammered.

“GO.”

“You need to eat. You should come home.”

“GO.”

“What is going on,” a nurse appeared. “We can’t have shouting,” she looked at Jimmy.

“We’re leaving,” Daisy grabbed Ivy’s arm. 

“But, I don’t think we should…”

“Ivy, go.” Ivy stared at him and started crying. 

“Oh, will you stop it…” Daisy snarled and yanked Ivy with her. 

Jimmy felt no guilt at all. When was that girl going to stop pining for him? He looked at Thomas and swallowed. When did Thomas? Did he stop? Has he still been pining? The questions whirred through Jimmy’s head. He’d pushed it away, he denied it, it took a bullet to make him see. A bullet. Life and death. For him to see the truth. Would have never realized this if that gun hadn’t been misfired. 

“I’m a fool.” He thought. 

“I don’t know about that Mr. Kent, but you should eat one of the sandwiches those young ladies brought you.”

Jimmy jumped. He’d forgotten the nurse was there. 

She just smiled at him. “Part of my job to not be too noticeable.” She wrote something down on Thomas’ chart. Jimmy watched her put it back in place at the end of the bed. 

“Is it bad he hasn’t woken up yet?”

“We can only know when he wakes up.”

Jimmy felt tears prick at his eyes and turned away from her. 

“Remember, sandwiches,” she said and left. 

“I wish they’d leave me alone,” he muttered to Thomas. “How do they expect me to eat? I can’t… I’m still sick. All your blood, it wouldn’t stop.” 

The tears fell and he tightened his hold on Thomas’ hand and bent his head down again and allowed himself to cry. It was happening with or without him, so he went with it. Fear, adrenaline, self-hatred it was all there. Years of wasted time, screaming at him. The thought he’d still be hiding from the love that was pounding inside of him if it weren’t for a bullet ripping into Thomas’ flesh. Pain and blood. That was what opened his eyes and it was wrong, that wrong. He was wrong and had been for years. Years wasted. His biggest fear roared his mind and repeated. It could be too late, it could be too late.

Thomas might not wake up.

Thomas might be okay. 

Thomas might not still love him. Thomas might have moved on and there was no moving backward. Was there? Could he make Thomas fall for him again? Especially with him willing — more than willing. He inhaled sharply, he was sobbing he realized. But he’d almost lost him and if he could still have lost him. 

Because he probably figured out everything too late. 

“What’s too late?” a raspy voice seemed to whisper and he felt the hand in his own, tighten slightly against his fingers. Jimmy stopped breathing and he lifted his head. His lifted his head up and saw Thomas turned toward him, eyes partly open giving him a peek of gray. Pain and confusion was etched on Thomas features and without thought Jimmy reached over with his other hand and touched his face. 

“You’re okay? You’re okay,” he echoed afraid he was seeing things. 

“I don’t think so,” Thomas groaned. 

“I thought…” Jimmy found he couldn’t talk. Tears were fresh again but happier than before. No less worried or afraid but happier. “You woke up.”

Thomas’ eyes followed his arm down to Jimmy’s hand around his own. His hand shifted a bit and Jimmy felt Thomas starting to hold his hand back. Not just a light squeeze but a true handhold. Jimmy tightened his grip for a moment and smiled. 

“I’m dreaming or dead,” Thomas muttered as his eyes slipped closed again.

“Wrong…” Jimmy whispered. “Wrong on both counts.” He looked at their hands. No he felt their hands. Thomas may have slipped back into sleep but his hand held Jimmy’s. His hand was no longer limp in Jimmy’s hold. They were holding hands. Them. Jimmy held Thomas and Thomas held Jimmy. Jimmy reveled in the feeling of it, Thomas’ life pressing against his palm. 

He had to tell Dr. Clarkson. He started to stand but then he realized he’d have to let go of Thomas to find him. And that wasn’t going happen. He wouldn’t let go until Thomas let go. He wasn’t leaving Thomas. No, he wasn’t leaving Thomas. So he did the only thing he could.

“Dr. Clarkson!” Jimmy shouted.


	4. A Beautiful Dream

It was a solid pressure that made Thomas eyes blink open. Something heavy was pinning a piece of him down. It was pleasant if a bit sharp. He felt gripped by something and for a second it scared him. He felt panic and his eyes opened wider. He blinked. It was bright and the ceiling was too white and it wasn’t sloped. He wasn’t in his room. He wasn’t in the Abbey. He tried to move but pain laced through him from a point on his chest and he looked down and saw he was shirtless with a bandage nearly over his heart. 

A memory of heat and pain. Jimmy. His face and his voice saying Thomas’ name. But he could barely hear him and then everything faded to black. There was pain now. He felt it. He felt like he maybe been torn inside and out. But that hadn’t been what woke him up. A heavy, solid, pleasant weight. Something keeping him pinned and tethered. It was comforting. 

He closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn’t slip back into sleep. Something was keeping him there. Wasn’t it? Something to do with that pleasant weight tethering him somehow. It kept him safe. He almost chuckled, the thought of anything keeping him safe. But then he felt the weight and it’s constant pressure. And his senses started to work better. Thomas realized his hand is being held, and he turned as well as he could. He gasped. 

His heart started to pound in his chest and given his wound — what happened — he wonders briefly if maybe it’s dangerous. But shock waved through him and he doesn’t quite know what else his body was meant to do. He swallowed hard and just stared at the blonde hair. Not any blonde hair but Jimmy’s blonde hair, waves of dark honey. It was a mess and unruly. Thomas never seen more than just the forelock out of place. Because Jimmy wasn’t modest and Jimmy always made sure to look his best. He needn’t have tried as hard as he did… But Thomas could never say it, though he thought it, every time he watched Jimmy make sure his hair was in place. 

It was all out of place now. He was sleeping on the edge of Thomas’ bed. Head leant down, his body folded over from a wooden chair. Thomas stared and his eyes slid down the length of his own arm and saw his hand disappeared because it was wrapped in Jimmy’s. 

“Oh,” he startled again. “Oh?”

The comforting, safe, solid, heavy and tethering weight was Jimmy’s hand wrapped around his own. No it wasn’t that. It wasn’t being wrapped it was being held. Held. Their fingers were tangled, his hand was inside of Jimmy’s but they were holding hands. He felt Jimmy’s palm against his own, he felt the heat of his skin. His licked his lips and stared at their hands. He felt Jimmy’s fingers against his. But more than anything he felt the hold. It was a hard hold, it was gripping. The heat of Jimmy’s skin, it was because his own hand was clasped tightly against it. He was being held onto like his life depended on it. 

Had it? Because it felt like a lifeline. Which was insane. But it was Jimmy. Jimmy’s hand. This was him and Jimmy touching. Hand holding wasn’t the most intimate one could be with another but it denoted it. It spoke of connection and love. 

It wasn’t something Thomas knew at all. No one has done this before. No one has held his hand. No one. It’s never been an option. It was never an option because of who he is. Because what he is is. It wasn’t an option because who would want to hold his hand. Thomas Barrow. Bastard. He resented it. He saw Anna and Bates. He saw Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson even, though they hid it well. Always so professional. His Lordship and Lady Grantham. Lady Mary and Matthew Crawley. He saw it. Saw it and wanted it. But it would never be…

He stared at Jimmy hands the most. It was the one place he could get away with it. He closed his eyes and remembered. Watched Jimmy playing piano and wanting those hands to play his body. He thought about it what it might be like to hold them. To just hold Jimmy’s hand. But it wasn’t an option. It wasn’t an option. 

He was dreaming. Thomas was suddenly sure. He was dreaming. There was no way this was happening. He was having some strange dream where he was between pain and pleasure. What else was new? He laughed wryly and felt the fear of waking up. He might wake up. He looked back their hands. The heat of Jimmy’s palm, the feeling of their fingers linked, the strength of the fingers holding onto him. His eyes fell back on Jimmy, he was asleep but holding on so tightly… 

Dream. 

Thomas held his breath. If it was a dream and if he was going to wake up unceremoniously and as usual alone. He was going to enjoy this. He was going to revel in it. He was going to remember every single second of this. He stared at Jimmy’s hair, and what little of his face he could see. He was looking toward their hands, Thomas realized. His eyes closed, mouth open a little, face smushed a bit into Thomas’ mattresses. It looked uncomfortable, the way the chair was turned behind him, the way he was folded over in order to lay down his head. It was impossible, Thomas thought. Jimmy wouldn’t do this for him. His dreams were always so absurd. Jimmy Kent wouldn’t be by his bedsides. Friends or not. 

His heart did a painful but familiar lurch and he turned away and breathed in. Then he looked back at their hands. He stared, at the way they looked, at the contrast in their skin tone — he looked too pale. He focused on the warmth, and the feeling of it all. Closing his eyes and focusing on every point of touch. Then he slowly, very slowly. Because he was afraid that it would be the thing that would shoot him right out of the dream. And it was a beautiful dream. Slowly Thomas tightened his grip to match Jimmy’s. He slowly started to hold Jimmy’s hand right back. Giving as good as Jimmy was giving him. Holding on tight and thinking about how amazing it would be to never let go. He held his breath, he noted the shift in their fingers, the drag of skin and he knew this was the best dream of his life. He squeezed Jimmy’s hand, kept his eyes wide open and waited to wake up. 

“Thomas…” Jimmy’s voice was low. His eyes almost darted to Jimmy’s face but then the hand that was holding onto his own in that pleasant firm grip, squeezed his hand tighter. It was a moment and he heard his name murmured once again as Jimmy’s grip relaxed back to it’s prior grip. Then Thomas glanced between their hands and Jimmy’s face. 

His heart rate picked up again and he looked around the room. It was the hospital. He would know it any where. He worked in it long enough; he did at times dream of it, the war and things he rather not think about. But it was… He started to hear the other people in the building. He looked from the curtains back to Jimmy. He felt panicked suddenly, his breathe felt ragged and he stared at Jimmy. He squeezed Jimmy’s hand and his own was squeezed back and Jimmy mumbled in his sleep. Jimmy was asleep at his bedside? Jimmy was asleep in his bedside?

He was seeing it but he couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea. It wasn’t. They were close. They were very close. Thomas never imagined having a better friend. But… Jimmy was holding his hand. 

Jimmy Kent was at his bedside and holding his hand. It couldn’t be real. His mind either panicked it was a dream or that it wasn’t. Neither seemed right and neither seemed wrong. He was confused. He was hurt. He was in pain. But all that mattered was that his hand was being held. It was turning him inside out. More so than whatever ill had brought him here. 

The pain was making him tired. He felt so tired. Would he be this exhausted if it was dream? But…. Thomas stared at Jimmy. Told himself it was a dream. But Jimmy would mumble in his sleep, or just reflexive tighten his grip on Thomas’ hand. Which made Thomas squeeze Jimmy’s hand, which caused a mumbled — and he’d hold his breath. Sure if Jimmy woke up the spell would be gone. Something nagged at him it was real, perhaps the pain that waved out from his chest, but he kept thinking it had to be a dream. So, he went about memorizing every little detail, as much as he was capable. Thomas waited to wake up but instead he drifted to sleep. 


	5. Friendship

Jimmy was his friend. Thomas stared at him. He was sleeping as he been every time Thomas managed to open his eyes. His heartbeat rushed painfully in his chest. He ached and felt sharp pain but it was all bearable. Because Jimmy was with him. Holding his hand. Jimmy was his friend. He knew it, he had known it, for a long time. But not like this. He squeezed Jimmy’s hand and felt Jimmy tighten his fingers in response, even in the deep sleep he seemed to have fallen into. Thomas knew now that he mattered to Jimmy. Their friendship mattered to Jimmy. Jimmy cared about him and he gave their relationship weight. Probably never as deeply as Thomas felt, but Jimmy cared. Perhaps loved him. 

Jimmy was his friend. 

He stared at the man and wasn’t surprised to find him beautiful even as he drooled into the sheets of Thomas’ bed. He watched him breathe and shook his head. Years and years he spent treasuring every moment of their friendship and thinking it meant nothing to Jimmy past the moment. But that couldn’t be true. That couldn’t be true if he was here. Here with him now in this horrible moment. Gripping his hand far more tightly than was necessary. He would mumble Thomas’ name if Thomas squeezed his hand hard enough. Thomas forced himself not to do it, not too often. He didn’t want to wake him up. Because while beautiful, Thomas was aware Jimmy looked horrible. He was pale, there were circles under his eyes and his hair was mess. Thomas wanted to rake his fingers through it but his hand was occupied, and he couldn’t reach over with his other. 

Moving was excruciating. He looked toward the space of his partition and wondered if a nurse would wander in soon. His voice felt weak, he wasn’t sure he could shout loud enough. And even if he could, he didn’t want to wake up Jimmy. 

Fear hit him at the thought. It was more than Jimmy’s obvious exhaustion. If he woke him he might let go. He would sit up and leave Thomas’ bed. He would move away from Thomas. He wouldn’t be in Jimmy’s grip and he was far too selfish to think about giving it up. 

Movement made him turn toward the gap in the partitions around his cot. Dr. Clarkson walked in and a different fear laced through Thomas. A familiar panic of being found out, of somebody seeing his deepest secret took hold. He looked at their hands and he felt himself trying to pull his hand free. It was against his will but before he could stop himself, Jimmy’s hand to tighten around his fingers and kept their hands clasped together. 

Thomas was amazed. He treasured this intimacy. When Jimmy woke he was likely to pull away. Thomas was far to selfish to give up sooner than he was warranted. He would hold on to Jimmy’s hand until Jimmy decided to break contact. But it was hard for him to look at Dr. Clarkson. Expecting to see hate in the man’s eyes and reproach at their contact. To feel judged for it. 

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Clarkson asked. His voice was clinical.

“Um…” Thomas forced himself to look at the doctor. All he saw was Clarkson looking at him with professional detachment. 

“Are you in pain?”

“Yes, a lot, actually.” Thomas studied Clarkson’s face, he looked at his eyes. Still expecting him to look at him and Jimmy. To note it. To have a negative reaction but he wasn’t and it was confusing. 

“I’ll have Nurse Smith give you something. You seem more lucid than earlier.” 

“Earlier?”

Dr. Clarkson nodded. “You’ve been in an out for awhile now. Mr. Kent been keeping us updated.”

“He…” Thomas looked between the doctor and Jimmy again. Of course. Jimmy’s been here. He’s talked to the doctor, seen the nurses. He’s holding Thomas’ hand, it’s not a surprise for them. Maybe Thomas was worried for nothing, perhaps this was normal for friends? It wasn’t like he really knew, Jimmy was his first true friend. He glanced at Jimmy, folded over, head on the bed. And it turned out that Jimmy was his friend. A deeper friend than Thomas ever dreamed was possible.

“Do you remember what happened?” Dr. Clarkson asked and Thomas realized he was unaware of the thoughts in Thomas head. 

“No,” Thomas shook his head and tried to remember again. But his mind was oddly blank. It was disconcerting and he tightened his grip on Jimmy’s hand. 

“You were shot. You were quite lucky, less than inch to the left it would’ve been your heart.”

“Shot?” He lifted up his left hand and looked at the scar from the bullet. Then his eyes fell down at his chest and he realized the sharp pain he was feeling was familiar. It was the first familiar sensation he had since waking. “That explains a lot.”

“The memory may come back, be prepared.”

Thomas nodded. 

Dr. Clarkson picked up his chart. Thomas watched him as he noted something down. Then Clarkson was looking at Jimmy. Thomas felt panic rise again but he schooled his features. It was a well practiced habit. And he stop the instinct to hide and to pull his hand away. To hide the evidence. He would not pull his hand free. No, he would not break this connection that Jimmy had formed. He wasn’t even sure if he could, he’d felt Jimmy’s fingers tighten earlier. Blessedly stopping him. Jimmy was holding onto him tightly. It felt wonderful. 

“If he wakes up, you should try to get him to go back to the Abbey. Get some rest and food. He’s been here since you were brought in.”

“What?”

“He hasn’t left. Refused to. They’ve been sending him sandwiches but he barely eats them. You’re out of the woods, now. He should take care of himself.”

“Sandwiches? How long have I’ve been?”

“Going on three days in a few hours, I dare say.”

“He’s been…”

Clarkson just nodded before disappearing. 

Jimmy hadn’t left his side. In days. Days? Thomas licked his lips, his throat felt constricted. He stared at Jimmy and felt it all over again. The rush of the realization that this friendship meant something to Jimmy hit him hard. He felt breathless and it wasn’t about his wound. Jimmy wasn’t passing the time with him, or using him to alleviate the boredom of a job in service. 

Thomas looked away and blinked back the tears that threatened. Jimmy’s actions were speaking things that Thomas never dared think before. It was love. There was love in what Jimmy was doing. Thomas let out a strangled gasp, he didn’t know what to do with it. Jimmy loved him. It may never be what he wants, Jimmy will never be in love with him. But he loves him and he has to catch his breath. 

Jimmy Kent loves him, Thomas Barrow.


	6. Can't Let Go

Jimmy woke with a start. Grimacing at the feel of drool against his cheek. He lifted up slowly and carefully. Making sure not to pull too far away from the bed as he used his free hand to wipe at the corner of his mouth. He started to slowly blink away the sleep in his eyes, he was exhausted but that didn’t matter. He had to be here with him. He squeezed Thomas’ hand, tightening his grip up now that he was awake. What he didn’t expect was for Thomas fingers wrapped tightly around his own in response. His eyes darted to their hands, Thomas’ was curled into his own, no longer limp.

“I’d say good morning, or afternoon but it could be evening,” Thomas’ voice drifted into his ear. Dry and acerbic. Perfect. 

Jimmy turned toward him and grinned. 

“Hello, Jimmy.” Thomas greeted him with a small smile. 

“You really awake this time?” Jimmy asked, his heart pounding in his ears, it was a loud whoosh. 

“I believe so.”

Jimmy stared at him. Lucid eyes, pink in his cheeks and his lips were red again. He let out a long breath of relief, tension in his shoulders and neck sliding away. But suddenly panic thumped inside his chest again; he tightened his hold on Thomas’ hand. The memory of the shooting, all his fear and the unending painful twisting in his gut. Tears threatened to fall as both the relief and fear warred inside of him. His tightened his grip harder and harder around Thomas’ hand. 

“Jimmy?” Thomas winced his eyes darting to their hands. 

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” Jimmy snapped.

Thomas eyed him and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. The sight of it pissed Jimmy off. “I mean it, Thomas. It’s not funny… I thought, I thought…” He looked away, tears stinging his now, threatening to spill down his cheeks. He can’t say it, he can’t voice the thought of Thomas dying. It would make it all more real and and it was too real to him as it was. 

“Jimmy…” Thomas’ voice full of concern. 

Jimmy closed his eyes, a wry chuckle escaping his throat because he probably should be saying Thomas’ name with deep concern, not the other way around. It was Thomas who was shot. “Do you remember?” Jimmy asked looking at him, forgetting the tears that were sliding down his face. 

“You’re crying,” Thomas said his eyes wide in surprise. 

Jimmy felt his cheeks heat up but he wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t. “You almost died,” he swallowed as he said it and more tears fell down his cheeks.

Thomas watched the tears with wide eyes, then he shifted in the bed, his expression becoming pained. “Yeah, I feel like it.” 

“Don’t… don’t do it again,” Jimmy begged. 

“I don’t plan on it… And I don’t remember it.”

Jimmy felt relief at that. He wished he could forget the blood draining out of Thomas. Too fast for him to stop it. “I was…I can’t… Thomas,” he whispered his name. The fear ebbing away leaving only the love he felt for the man in front of him. “Thomas,” he whispered again. 

Thomas stared at him, his eyes shrewd and searching. Jimmy held his gaze, because he was unable to look away. Not when he was seeing life again in Thomas’ expressions. The shift of his cheek bones, the quirks of his mouth. The pink that gave his white of his skin health. Thomas stared at him, his eyes and mouth soft but also confused. 

Quiet hung between them. Jimmy wanted to tell him, wanted to tell him everything. How he felt, how stupid he’d been for far too long. He wanted to kiss him, touch him, he wanted to grab him in his arms. Hold him tight and feel his heart beating against his own chest. He was itching to it, impatience was threatening to make him. But he couldn’t, not here, not in the hospital. It didn’t matter that Clarkson had heard his epiphany of love as he shouted it to the world. He knew the staff was were only allowing him to stay where he was because Lady Mary had decided it was to be allowed — and he wondered how he’d ever thank her for it. He couldn’t tell Thomas here, like this… they needed to be truly alone. He needed to figure out what to do and how to say it all — he’d been so stupid. Thomas wasn’t going to believe him. 

Thomas looked away from him, his tongue darting out and licking his lips. He squeezed Jimmy’s hand and Jimmy immediately returned the gesture. “I…” Jimmy watched Thomas’ eyes go to their hands. “They’ve told me you’ve been here for days.”

Jimmy nodded because all the words that formed in his throat would give too much away. Thomas eyes darted between Jimmy and their hands. When he returned his gaze to Jimmy’s they locked eyes and stared. 

“You should go home…” Thomas said but it sounded like a question.

“No.”

Thomas smiled. “I don’t… I mean. You need real rest, Jimmy. Your neck must hurt.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m fine,” Thomas said. “I’m going to be fine.”

Jimmy felt relieve slam into him again and tears stung again, the emotion of it so overwhelming. “I know.”

“And…” Thomas’ cheeks grew redder and he looked at their hands. “I don’t want to let go of you…at all… But you need to take care of yourself.”

“No.” It came out sharp and angry. Like every other no that barked out of his throat since the moment Thomas was shot. 

Thomas’ eyebrows rose up. 

Jimmy looked away from him. 

“What is it?” Thomas asked. 

“Everything,” Jimmy whispered his voice cracking. 

Thomas’ cheeks reddened further and he looked away from him. Jimmy recognized the habit, the expression. Thomas was afraid to look at him, afraid his expression would give things away that Jimmy didn’t want to see. But now he craved it, he wanted it, he wanted to know what Thomas’ eyes looked like when he couldn’t hide he was in love with him…. If he still was? He felt so sure and so uncertain of his love all at once. 

“I don’t know how to leave,” Jimmy whispered. “They kept trying to make me and make me. I’m dug in now…” he looked at their hands, it on the tip of his tongue to tell Thomas he doesn’t want to let go of him. 

“You look terrible, you know,” Thomas said turning back to him with a smirk. 

“I do not,” Jimmy argued. 

“You do… Dark circles under your eyes, pale… I was shot and I think I look better at this point.”

“I…” Jimmy started to argue but the urge died before he could. It was the look in Thomas’ eyes. The worry, the amount of sincere concern Jimmy could see. “I’m…I’m exhausted.” 

“And you look it.”

Jimmy sighed. 

“Go home. Sleep, eat. Come back.”

Jimmy nodded. 

“All right then, good…” Thomas grinned at him. 

“I won’t be long,” Jimmy threatened. 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Jimmy laughed but he didn’t move. They both looked down at their hands. Jimmy tightened his grip and felt Thomas return it. It felt amazing. It was odd he realized. Thomas’ only mention of it was that he didn’t want to let go and that made Jimmy’s heart flutter. His cheeks heated as he looked at their hands, weaved together and holding on tight. He didn’t know to let go. Not when he knew what he wanted. 

“On three?” Thomas suggested, looking at Jimmy oddly with a dash of confusion. 

“All right then…” Jimmy nodded. 

They both tightened their grips at one, neither relaxed on two, but somehow on three they both let go. Jimmy hand went cold, it was cramping a bit but the feeling of emptiness was the only thing he could focus on. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to his feet, fighting the urge to just grab hold of Thomas again and stay. “I mean it, I’ll be right back.”

Thomas looked from his empty hand to Jimmy. “Please do.”


	7. Say Something

Jimmy paced his bedroom. Thomas was starting back on duty today and that meant Jimmy’s self imposed wait was over. Today he could tell Thomas he loved him. Tell Thomas everything. Why he stayed at his bedside, why he held his hand, why for the last month he’d been there through every second of Thomas’ recovery. 

He could tell Thomas he loved him, he wouldn’t have to check it when it threatened to spill off his tongue. He wouldn’t have to be careful about what he said every second of every day. He could look at him longer and not feel strange about it. He wouldn’t have to use concern as an excuse to touch him. Jimmy closed his eyes and imagined Thomas touching him. He never touched him unless Jimmy initiated it. 

Jimmy was terrified. He felt it in his veins, he could feel his heartbeat. He was reminded of the terror he felt when Thomas was shot. Only this was hotter and not as cold. He wasn’t afraid he’d lose Thomas forever, but he was afraid. He was afraid he’d already lost Thomas’ heart. That Thomas no longer loved him, or wanted him in that way. That he’d been too stupid and obtuse for far too long. He was scared to bring it up, he was scared of the answer. Thomas was the brave one. Thomas would have confessed already, not used Thomas’ recovery as an excuse to stay quiet. Thomas would have pulled Jimmy into a kiss already. Bold and short-sighted. But brave all the same. 

He was scared of reciprocation as well. It didn’t run as deep as the fear he felt about the possibility of missing his chance. But it scared him all the same. This was new. So new. He’d never been love before. Lust sure. He knew all the feelings and stirrings he had for the women in his past were true. He’d wanted them, wanted touch them, be with them. But it hadn’t been this. It hadn’t been love. It hadn’t been friendship and all that entailed. What he felt for Thomas was more than friendship, it was a love he never understood before. He wanted Thomas, wanted all of him and all he had to do to get was tell him. 

It’d be a yes or a no. 

Jimmy shivered because both answers would throw him, both answers would put him in a whole new direction. One was more embarrassing than the other. But he’d do that, he’d be embarrassed, he’d let his pride be kicked in the face. He would for Thomas. He just had to brave for one second and admit to Thomas just how bloody important he was to Jimmy. 

He jumped in his skin when his alarm went off and he hurried over to turn it off. He was wide awake, hadn’t been able to sleep at all. The day offered too much possibility for sleep to claim him. Jimmy looked in the mirror and fiddle with his hair a little bit. It was time to help Thomas get ready for his first day back on duty — light duty. Something Jimmy was going to ensure was an actuality. 

He walked out in the hallway and down a few doors. He knocked but opened the door without waiting for answer. Jimmy blinked. The room was empty. Most of Thomas livery was laid out for him to put on, but Jimmy noticed the pants, along with Thomas himself were notably missing. He spun around in a circle, confused, but ended up looking down the hall toward where the lavatory was and he frowned. 

He was at the door in a flash and tried the knob. 

“Will be another ten minutes,” Thomas said through the door. 

“What are you doing?” Jimmy snapped back and tried the knob again.

“Jimmy?”

“Yeah.”

The lock clicked and the door opened, only long enough for Jimmy to see Thomas with a half shaved face, his hair a bit damp falling over his forehead. Jimmy felt his breath catch in his throat. It did that a lot around Thomas, catch in his throat, stop in his chest. He wondered at times how breathed at all around him. “What?” Thomas asked.

“What?”

“What?” Thomas repeated and then he stepped away. 

Jimmy pushed through the door, closing it and locking it behind him. 

Thomas was shaving.

Jimmy looked around the room, taking in more signs that Thomas had taken a bath and started to get ready for the day. “You should’ve waited…”

“I don’t need you to be in shouting distance to take a bath anymore.” Thomas looked at him via the mirror. 

Jimmy met his gaze in the glass. “I just want to make sure…”

“That I’m safe,” Thomas finished with exasperation. 

“Yes,” Jimmy said. 

Thomas held his gaze in the mirror for another beat and then went back to shaving. Jimmy stood where he was finding he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands or with his eyes. He ended up watching Thomas shave and then rinse off his face. Thomas lifted his head back up and stared at Jimmy again via the mirror. “You don’t have be here,” he pointed out.

 _I don’t know where else to be,_ Jimmy thought and he shook his head. “I want to help.”

“Jimmy I don’t need help pomading my hair. I handled a bath just fine, I can put on my livery…”

“But?”

“But what? You don’t need to hover.”

“I don’t hover.”

Thomas sighed and grabbed the pomade. 

Jimmy found himself watching again, his heart pounding against his chest. He felt hot and too tight in his own skin. “Are you sure you’re…”

“I am ready to get back to work. I need to get back to work. I’m tired of the same bloody four walls. I’m tired of sitting, I’ve read all my books five times. I would like to do a full day…”

“Dr. Clarkson said to start slow,” Jimmy finished for him.

“I know what he said, Jimmy.” Thomas turned and glared right at him.

“You’re annoyed,” he said and he felt knocked off balance.

“Yes.”

“With me?”

Thomas rolled his eyes and turned back to the mirror, to finish his hair. 

Jimmy stared at him.

Thomas let out a slow breath. “Jimmy, it’s okay. You don’t have to keep up with this.”

“This?”

“It’s okay to go back to how we were before.”

“Before?” Jimmy was confused. 

“Before the shooting.”

“What about before the shooting?”

“You don’t have to live in my pocket. I’m better. I’m fine. You don’t have to feel obligated too…”

“OBLIGATED,” Jimmy shouted. 

“Be quiet,” Thomas hissed and he turned around again. “And yes… I’m thankful, truly, Jimmy. Your presence by my side has been…” Thomas ducked his head down. “It’s helped. But I don’t expect you to keep it up now.”

“Now?”

“I’m going back work, everything is going back to normal.”

“Normal?”

“And I do need… some breathing room if I’m being honest.”

Jimmy felt punched. It hit him again that Thomas was annoyed with him. Him. Thomas was annoyed with the world, with Carson, Mrs. Hughes, with Bates. Thomas was annoyed with the stupidity of everyone else around them. But never him. Not him. Fear laced through his chest, hitting his heart. Maybe it was too late. It was far too late. 

“It’s okay, I don’t expect anything more out of you.”

“Anything more?” Jimmy shook his head. “But… Thomas.”

“What?”

Jimmy stared at him. “What the hell is normal?”

Thomas expression shifted to confusion. “We chat throughout the day, go outside for a smoke or two. Roll our eyes at Alfred. Start over tomorrow.”

Jimmy shook his head. No. No way. He and Thomas talked for hours in his room. They spent time alone, behind that closed door and it’d been the best days of his life, despite the fact Thomas been healing throughout most the days. “No.”

“What?”

“We can’t go backward.”

“It’s not backward, it’s getting back to normal. And I need to get back to normal Jimmy. Really, I need a break… and you must need one too. You can’t tell me I’m not getting on your nerves.”

“Nerves?” 

Thomas sighed. 

“I’m on your nerves, I’m annoying you…Me.”

“A bit, yes.”

“But?” Jimmy felt spun. 

“I’m not dying, Jimmy. I can move without getting dizzy. I don’t need you near by to take care of myself. And I’ve appreciated it all, I have, you went beyond what I deserved or would have expected…”

“You’re trying to let me off the bloody hook?” Jimmy spat out. 

“Well…”

“NO.”

Thomas blinked.

“More than you deserved? What the fuck does that mean? What you deserved? Are you kidding me, Thomas? You were bloody shot, you were dying and I’d never been more afraid of anything in my damn life. But now I’m annoying you, I AM.”

Thomas stared at him and his mouth opened and then closed it again. 

“I just thought,” Jimmy sighed and looked away. “I thought, I was the one person who couldn’t annoy you. But maybe it’s too late, it’s too late…” Jimmy turned toward the door. He unlocked it and was about to turn the knob when Thomas’s hand grabbed his arm and stopped him. Thomas was standing right there, right next to them, his hand burning against Jimmy’s skin, their bodies touching. 

“You don’t.”

“I don’t?”

“You never annoy me,” Thomas said. 

“Then what the bloody hell have you been going on about?” Jimmy snapped. 

“I…” Thomas’ cheeks turned red and looked at his hand and let it drop from Jimmy’s arm. 

Jimmy shivered, cold without him touching him. “Thomas?”

“I’m not glass.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have too… You aren’t tired of me?” Thomas asked. 

“Why would I be tired of you?”

“Because…” Thomas sighed. “If you’re going to get tired of me, I need us to pull back now that I’m going back downstairs.” 

“I’m not going too.”

“I know me getting shot, shifted some things and it made some things clearer and I’m… grateful.” Thomas’ face brightened and he looked at Jimmy with something like surprise in his eyes. “I’m so thankful, Jimmy for things… but I know that it’s not the same for you.”

Jimmy studied the surprise in Thomas expression, he felt his stomach twist and his heart was hurting ears. “What things?” he whispered. 

Thomas shook his head. 

“What things, Thomas?” he asked again, begging him with his eyes and feeling that damn catch in his breath again. 

“We’re friends,” Thomas whispered like it was secret. 

Jimmy was puzzled and he stared at him and shook his head. “We’ve been friends for years.”

“But…” Thomas blushed deeper. “I thought I was more invested.”

Jimmy eyes widened and he grabbed Thomas’s hand. “No. No you’re not more invested.”

“I know. Now.”

Jimmy squeezed his hand and stared at him His mouth opened but it closed. Everything he wanted to say was there, he heard the words. _I love you, I want you, you look amazing right now and I want to touch your cheek. I want to press my thumb to your lips, followed by my mouth. I want you, Thomas. All of you._ But something in Thomas’s voice, something in Thomas’ words kept him silent and he felt his anger rising.

“And I’m so thankful, Jimmy. Happy about it. I am. But I want you to know it’s okay that we don’t stay in each others pockets, not that things are going to go back to normal.”

And that was it. That was it. Thomas couldn’t believe in his friendship. His friendship. He couldn’t accept it without being awed by it and thinking it was some grand gift. “Stop it, stop THAT.”

“What?”

“Acting like… like you don’t deserve friendship.”

“I don’t deserve yours… what I did…”

“What that kiss? That bloody kiss?” 

Thomas nodded.

“Fuck that, Thomas. I let that go, I forgot about and I wish…”

“It’s okay that it bothers…”

“Are you even listening to me. I don’t wish it hadn’t happened, hell if it hadn’t happened we wouldn’t be here and I want to be HERE. You’re impossible. I can’t even… I don’t. You don’t. You have no clue.”

“Jimmy?”

“I’m not brave. I’m not brave, I think it but I can’t say it. And you, you walked into my room and went for it. I couldn’t have done it, you have no clue how amazing your ability to risk is to me. But here you are not even able to accept our friendship without disbelief? You want to think you’re unlovable is that it? Because that’s stupid, that’s fucking stupid. You think it’s some gift, my friendship. When you earned it, you earned me, we earned this relationship. We became friends, despite… what weren’t even differences in the first place. What would you do? What would you do, Thomas?” 

Thomas was staring at him. “Jimmy calm down…”

“Calm down. CALM DOWN. I’m here trying to find the fucking nerve to tell you I’m in love with you, terrified I waited too long, afraid your feelings changed. And you tell me I annoy you and then you backtrack it. You think our friendship is the fucking holy grail but I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you…” 

Thomas hand clapped over Jimmy’s mouth. Jimmy reached up and grabbed Thomas’ shoulders, his heart was in his mouth, he was shaking and his eyes were wide and staring right into Thomas’ equally wide eyes. The two of them stood there, staring and breathing. Thomas’ hand slipped from Jimmy’s mouth but Jimmy tightened his grip on Thomas’ shoulders. 

“Say something…” Jimmy whispered after what felt like a lifetime.

Thomas’ hands rose up and they slid onto Jimmy’s neck, to the back of his head, yanking him right into Thomas’ body, making it possible for Thomas to press his lips against Jimmy’s own. Thomas pushed full force into him, pressing his lips and licking out with tongue. Tasting him and letting Jimmy taste him. A hum escaped his throat only to be swallowed by Thomas’ mouth. Jimmy hands dropped to Thomas’ chest, then slid down to his hips, to yank him even more into himself. Causing them both to stagger in place, Jimmy was afraid for a brief moment they’d tilt to the floor but then his back hit the door. 

They kissed until they couldn’t breathe. Then Thomas’ forehead was against his, his hands on Jimmy’s face. He was staring into Jimmy’s eyes, his expression pure awe. “You love me?” he whispered.

“I love you.”


End file.
